


Something Like Friends

by this-is-cd (hic_sunt_dracones)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hic_sunt_dracones/pseuds/this-is-cd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2005 for numisma for santa_smex on lj. </p><p> </p><p>Eiji thought he was beginning to have a sixth sense about the whole thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Friends

It was happening again. That feeling, that tension in his belly. The coil winding itself up, taut. It was about to happen again. He knew it. He could feel it. Eiji thought he was beginning to have a sixth sense about the whole thing. It was happening on a nearly regularish interval. He just wondered, sometimes, just what it was between his best friend and himself. It was something more than just being “friends”, yet it really wasn’t. Not yet anyway. There was just that _thing_ , that tenuous string linking him to Fuji, the string that was pulled so tightly sometimes, especially lately.

Fuji glances over at him, smirking briefly before turning back to his history book. Eiji smiles back, lightning quick, shaking his head subtly and shifting in his seat. Sensei was still talking. He feels a knock against his shoe and knocks back reflexively. Fuji coughs.

Fuji won’t stop kicking him. Eiji bites his lip to keep from laughing. He stomps down on Fuji’s foot, and Fuji loops his toes around Eiji’s ankle, pinning his leg to the chair leg. Tricky.

Eiji pulls his foot away slowly once Fuji releases him, but does not actually move away. His leg remains just where it was, flush against Fuji’s. Neither of them move from that position.

Class was long, and the room was unusually warm.

\---

These moments seemed to happen more and more frequently lately. Meaningful looks whose meaning Eiji couldn’t quite get. He doubted Fuji knew either. They didn’t talk about it, but he was sure they both knew _something_ was there. To speak of it would be to make it real, though, and Eiji isn’t sure he wants to do that just yet. Whether it is attraction or just hormones is uncertain. This uncertainty keeps Eiji from reaching just the extra few inches to grab Fuji by the collar of his uniform and yank him forward to shove his tongue into Fuji’s mouth. It was stupid, really.

Those looks with the hidden smile behind them won’t stop. Something between them had shifted. It had been going on for awhile. Too long now.

\---

Usually, Eiji would go home,frustrated and antsy. Most of the time he’d lock himself in his room,furiously playing videogames -- the fighting kind where he’d kick everyone’s asses: A-B-A-A-X-Y up-down-down-up-right-right-left A-Y-Y-B. Annihilation. That was satisfying. But not as satisfying as the times Eiji lays back on his bed, eyes closed, frantically stroking himself, jagged breaths muffled into his pillow, until he comes all over his shirt, his hand, his shorts.

Sometimes he finds himself, head turned, biting the comforter he hastily shoved aside. Sometimes Fuji’s name escapes his lips. He’d never admit to this, not under pain of torture. He is a strong boy. These times are followed by blinding embarrassment, of course. He doesn’t know why his best friend’s face should pop into his mind during those times when he is resolutely thinking of the slim, shapely girls who watch him play in the afternoons, the ones who scream his name during tournaments. The ones with the soft, round breasts and short skirts that lift with a strong wind blowing just the right way. The ones that bend over a desk to look back at him with needy, teasing eyes, legs spread slightly and hips lifted just before he notices how much they resembled Fuji, and how they were not, in fact, wearing a skirt, but had on track pants, aregular’s jersey tossed aside as…

 

 

Eiji was most disturbed by where these fantasies ended up.

\---

“Hello, Eiji.”

“Hi, Fujiiii! …..”

“Did you get home already? That’s your fastest time yet.”

“No, I’m still walking. I just wanted to, um. Tell you something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“…I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.”

“Really?”

“Yes. What mischief have you come up with now?”

“Nya, it’s so cold!”

“…that’s what you called to tell me, Eiji?”

“…OH! Um. No. Nothing. I forgot why I called. Nevermind.”

“Are you sure, Eiji?”

“Yeah! Talk to you later! Bye, Fuji!!”

“Sure. Later, Eiji. Bye.”

\---

Dinner is restless. He feels unsettled during the pleasantries of his family’s daily routine, but he listens as best as he can manage. He tries not to count the number of times his thoughts stray to this afternoon and Fuji’s leg flush against his own, growing steadily warmer even as the air from the open windows grows colder around them. He tries to ignore the hard-on he gets, and the confusion drives him mad.

He knows there were girls watching them at practice.

That offers some comfort, but not enough.

\---

He’s alone in his room now, a rare occurrence.

His brother is out with a friend, and Eiji’s hand is _not_ moving towards the front of his pants. Instead, he balls his fist and pounds his knee, growling a bit in frustration. _Apron of Love_ is playing on his television right now, and he is lying back, half-propped up on his bed. When his phone starts ringing on his nightstand, he starts in surprise and maybe a little guilt, as thoughthe caller knew what he would be interrupting.

Fuji. His stomach knots momentarily before he pushes the answer button, and lifts the phone to his ear, ignoring his previous train of thought.

“Eiji.” He hears his name before he can say hello.

“Fuji. Hi.” Eiji pauses, waiting for Fuji to continue.

“Eiji.” He hears Fuji breathing softly and furrows his brow.

“Yes?” He swallows, letting his leg lean against the wall. The next pause is longer. He hears movement, like pages turning, and suddenly his heart is racing. Eiji closes his eyes, fingertips sliding down from his knee. He digs his nails into his skin to stop them.

“Have you started your homework yet?”

“Not really. I was watching a program first.” He doesn’t want to pull himself off while on the phone with Fuji. He really shouldn’t want to. He shouldn’t, but he knows he is about to. There are red crescents on his thigh when he moves his hand. That is what he stares at as his hand slips, mindlessly, under his waistband, and wraps around his cock. He is not going to last long.

“ _Apron of Love_ , right?”

Eiji laughs. “Yes. You know me so well.” He moves his hand faster while Fuji speaks, shoving out the “this is wrong” thoughts that keep nagging at him, trying to be as quiet as he can, convincing himself the soft noises his hand is making cannot be heard on Fuji's end. Fuji is talking about another program he watched the night before, and Eiji hopes he can finish before Fuji stops speaking. He doesn’t want to have to talk while doing this. His voice would give him away.

He rubs his thumb over and around the tip of his cock, pressing firmly right beneath the head and clenches his eyes tightly, yanking hard once, twice, three times, and he’s spilling over his hand. He coughs loudly to hide a moan that begins to escape.

“Eiji?” Fuji’s voice is concerned. It wavers a little. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” Eiji manages before coughing again for good measure, waiting for the orgasm to pass. His breathlessness afterward is totally valid. It was a coughing fit. That’s all.

He wipes his hand off on his shorts, the insides of which are sticking to him. He sits up and looks down at his hand, which still contains evidence of what he’s just done. He rubs his knuckles on his leg again. Fuji lets out a shaky breath, waiting for Eiji to reply. He really doesn’t notice, though. He can’t talk to Fuji right now.

“I should get some water and get started on my homework, Fuji. I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up, cutting off Fuji’s goodbye.

He drops his phone and covers his head with his pillow.

\---

The next few days pass like the ones prior except that Eiji doesn’t get off on the phone again. What happens when he’s not on the phone, but alone in his room, in the shower at home or at school do not count. The Something is still there, and it becomes almost habit for Fuji to resthis leg against Eiji’s during class after their kick-fights. Nothing is ever said about this. They only ever smile, exchanging jokes and those same looks, walking home together, studying together, goofing off and teasing. Sometimes there are scribbled notes and muffled laughter, but they are good students and pay attention to their sensei. It’s just that sometimes Eiji’s attention drifts like a wayward balloon over toother thoughts. Like Fuji.

\---

It’s Friday; there’s noschool tomorrow. Practice is over, and he’s stopped feeling guilty.It’s been days. Its something everyone does. The clubroom could be a prime example of that, he thinks, grabbing his shampoo and towel, heading for the shower. It’s the off-season, and they’re just doing drills and training to keep in top form.

He soaps up after soaking his head, water pouring down his face. He hums a song to distract himself from his hand moving between his legs and to distract others near him from the sound not quite drowned out by the spray of the shower.

A few minutes pass and Fuji’s voice pops up from the stall next to his.

“Hey Eiji,” he hears a teasing note in his voice and knows instinctively to be ready for the next words, whatever they might be. “I bet I can get off before you.”

For a moment, Eiji is frozen and cannot reply. Whatever he had expected Fuji to say, it certainly wasn’t that. When he finally recovers, though, his voice is just as mischievous.

“Oh yeah, Fuji? You’re on!” He doesn’t think twice about this. One hand is moving furiously between his legs and the other is planted against the shower wall.

“I’m almost there, Eiji,” Fuji sounds almost breathless and for some reason, Eiji is reminded of that night on the phone. He shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

“No fair! You had a head start, Fuji!”

Fuji laughs. “I thought it was only fair. You’re quick with things sometimes, Eiji.”

Eiji knows better than to be insulted by Fuji’s barb and just moves his hand differently, using his fingers more. He’s close. His eyes flutter shut and a squeak catches in his throat.

“Eiji…”

“Fuji…” He’s there. He watches the water swirl down the drain.

“I win, Fuji,” he breathes out, knees weak, panting up against the wall, grin plastered on his face.

“Are you sure?” is the reply he gets. Fuji’s voice seems really close.

\---

Aftera few weeks, it becomes a daily ritual, another thing they don’t discuss. It just happens. If it isn’t possible in the showers after practice, there’s a phone call a few hours later during “homework time”. It works out for them. It isn’t weird. They both get off and there’s no stress, no expectation, no actual commitment. Eiji feels that tension dissipate. After three weeks, they stop keeping track of who’s winning, of who has come first each time. He’s not sure what it’s about anymore, just that it is no longer a contest. Instead, it’s about two boys getting off.

He ignores the fact that the Something is still there, perhaps more than ever. The Something doesn’t matter as much right now. He also ignores the realization that some of these orgasms are indescribably incredible. Almost like an epiphany; except they’re not, Eiji insists.

\---

It’s almost Christmas, and Eiji and Fuji always get one another small gifts or do something together like play video games, eat ice cream and cake or watch movies. They don’t have obligations to girlfriends or anything with their families. This year, Eiji suggests they make a Christmas Cake on their own instead of buying one. Eiji has been honing his skills with baking and cooking and he wants to try a Christmas Cake, complete with strawberries. Fuji agrees, as long as it’s at his house. Fuji’s kitchen is bigger and there won’t be as many people in the way.

They spend the afternoon together goofing off before starting the cake. Eiji’s not a messy person, but Fuji’s kitchen is a disaster after they’re through with a flour fight and shoving strawberries into each others mouths and faces. They’re both a mess from their fighting -- flour, dough, icing and strawberries smeared into their shirts, faces and hair. Eiji has something in his ear, he’s not sure what.

As the cake sits on the counter, they half-heartedly begin to clean up their mess. Eiji’s hair is half-white with flour and Fuji has smears of strawberry on his cheek. There’s a bit of strawberry that bothers Eiji, though, and he keeps stopping himself from wiping it away. He pushes Fuji away when Fuji starts to ruffle his hair, but it’s uninspired. Fuji doesn’t go anywhere and suddenly Eiji realizes that Fuji has him pushed up against the countertop, insistent hand smashing a strawberry past his lips.

Eiji looks across at Fuji, nearly choking and swallows quickly. Fuji’s smiling and his gaze never wavers.

“I have a bit of strawberry on my cheek. Would you get it off?”

Eiji swallows slowly. When he reaches over, Fuji grabs his hand and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Instead, he continues to look at Eiji. Specifically, at Eiji’s mouth. Eiji’s heart begins to pound.

“Eiji,”he says. “Get it off for me.” Eiji’s hand is still held tightly. He tilts his head in inquiry. Fuji nods once and Eiji knows, finally, that it’s okay. He leans forward to lick the bit of strawberry off of Fuji’s cheek when Fuji tilts his head and crashes his mouth against Eiji’s.

And he’s kissing Fuji. His best friend. It’s awkward and their teeth clack together. Then Fuji’s tongue is between his lips and swirling deliberately around Eiji’s own. He forgets about the bit of strawberry. He even forgets about his hand until Fuji releases it to slip his own hand to Eiji’s crotch. Eiji’s eyes fly open and lock with Fuji’s.

Eiji finally understands the look in Fuji’s eyes. It’s exactly the same as the look in his own.

\---

It only takes a few moments before Fuji has the buckle undone. He’s unzipped Eiji’s pants and pushed them down enough wrap his hand around Eiji’s cock. Eiji returns the favor, and he’s so nervous, trembling inanticipating. He feels better, though, when he notices unflappable Fuji is also trembling. Their foreheads are resting on each other’s shoulders, mouths pressing occasional kisses to necks or lifting to capture lips for a moment before concentration returns to the foreign sensation of having someone else’s cock in their hands.

It’s awkward and the angle is weird but Eiji tries to move his hand in some semblance of what he knows he likes. His fingers can’t quite reach the same way as they do on himself, but it must feel good because Fuji’s breathing becomes more jagged and labored. When Eiji presses his thumb around the tip and down through the middle, Fuji moans into Eiji’s neck and his hips rock forward. Eiji starts to feel a little smug, like he knows what he’s doing, and then Fuji’s fingers start doing _something_ ,and Eiji feels his eyes roll back in his head. He moans into Fuji’s neck, biting down momentarily before he’s coming over Fuji’s hand, his hips bucking forward. A few seconds later, Fuji’s spilling over Eiji's hand and they both cling to one another, panting and leaning against the counter.

\---

A week later, and Eiji isn’t sure he didn’t just imagine the messy food fight with Fuji and Fuji’s hands touching him _that way_ and that Christmas had not been anything more than one of his very inappropriate daydreams.

Eiji is getting ready to go out to meet Fuji, Inui, Momo, Kaidoh, and Ryoma. It is New Years Eve. Eiji’s phone rings. Fuji.

“Eiji.” He hears his name before he has a chance to answer.

“Fuji.” Eiji smiles, waiting.

“Eiji.” Fuji’s voice is softer, drawing out the vowels. His heart starts to beat faster. Eiji walks to his door and twists the lock in place. His brother is in the shower.

“Yes.” He moves over to his bed and lies back.

“Are you on your bed, Eiji?” Fuji’s breathing is steady, and Eiji can hear rustling material.

“Mhmm,” Eiji exhales, moving his hand to his pants and swiftly undoing the button. “Are you on your bed, Fuji?”

“I am.” Eiji’s eyes close briefly at Fuji’s words. “Take off your pants, Eiji. Now.”

Eiji starts to push them down. “You too, Fuji. Take them off.”

“We don’t have much time, Eiji. I’m going to win.”

Eiji laughs as he kicks his pants to his ankles. “You won’t beat me, Fuji.” Eiji strokes himself in firm strokes. There’s something about Fuji, he thinks as his hand begins to move faster. He can hear Fuji’s breathing hitch.

“Eiji…” There is a moan. Eiji bites his lip.

“Fuji…”

“What are you thinking of, Eiji? Tell me right now.”

Eiji’s thoughts scatter. He is thinking of so much right now, all of it concerning Fuji. But he isn’t sure what to say or how to say it. Is this the last step to take, the last line to cross into the more-than-friends territory? He thinks again of what Fuji is talking about now: it’s not school, or the weather, or Himalayan spotted cats. He’s not talking about the girls watching them at practice. He is talking about _Eiji_.

Eiji doesn’t pause too long before he makes up his mind to take that step, and he answers Fuji.

“You. On your bed.”

“Am I naked?”

“Almost. Your shirt is on, but it’s unbuttoned. Your socks are on too.” Eiji swallows. “What are you thinking about?”

There is a pause. Eiji hears Fuji’s hard breathing.

“I’m thinking about making you come. No hands. Just…” There is a gasp. “Just words, Eiji. Just words. Talking to you, watching you, and making you come.”

Eiji moans and he hears Fuji moan, too. This time, the meaning is plain. Fuji’s not talking about a television show or homework. It isn’t the easily misinterpretable press of Fuji’s leg against his own in class.

“Eiji…” His hips are thrusting into his hand again and he’s almost there when he hears that small, tell-tale sound Fuji makes when he comes. That sound is what pushes Eiji over the edge. He comes messily over his stomach and shirt. He’s almost upset momentarily because he really wanted to wear the shirt he has on but his orgasm shoves those thoughts out of his mind instantaneously.

He doesn’t even realize he gasps out Fuji’s name when he comes.

\---

It takes a few minutes to gather himself, steady his breathing, and clear his thoughts. He hears Fuji sigh and smile.

“Get dressed, Eiji. You have to meet me in twenty minutes.” Eiji smiles and wipes his hand on his bed as he sits up. He'll throw the sheets in the laundry on the way out.

The Something is still there, but right now, Eiji thinks the Something is much more clear than it has been before. He’s still not sure what it is, exactly, but that is alright with him. The big questions can wait. For now, there's Fuji's laughter and the click of the phone hanging up. There’s tonight. As Eiji gets up to change his shirt, he knows they’re going to make it something fun.  



End file.
